Shattered Glass
by halfmyheart
Summary: With Lois and Jason missing, Superman is forced to reevaluate his life and face down some of his own personal demons amid a sea of doubt. Nothing is as it seems.
1. Storm of the Century

Disclaimer: No. Not now. Not ever.

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She came back to consciousness the first time in complete darkness and silence. White hot lights popped in front of her eyes as she shifted painfully in the snow. Every fiber of her being screamed out in agony as she lay bleeding and broken, her life's blood pouring out onto the frozen ground. Her mind raced across time, trying to catch up with why and how she had come to be here, wherever _here_ was. All she knew was the pain that flooded her senses every time she took a breath, and the bitter, biting, cold that seemed to have turned her blood to ice.

Every insignificant move she made sent a new wave of sharp pain coursing through her body. Somehow, she had found her neck and the tiny chain that still hung there, tangled among a few long strands of matted hair. As her numb fingers closed around the small metal object she felt her heart swell until she was sure it would burst. Her blood began to flow again, but was quickly stopped by the indomitable cold that surrounded her in a frosty black cocoon. She clung to the locket as every ounce of her strength was sucked out of her broken body. It was the only thing she was aware of besides the pain, but even it was a double edged sword as the metal tip dug relentlessly into the tender flesh of her palm. Even as hot blood seeped out from around the locket, she grasped it tightly to her chest, willing herself to wake from this nightmare, but the harder she clutched the precious gem, the more difficult it was for her to feel it in the palm of her frozen hand.

She wanted to scream for help but her voice was so weak and broken to her own ears that she doubted it had even disturbed the heavy night air. Her lungs were on fire from the cold and her body felt too heavy, immovable under the thick layer of snow that had covered her like a death shroud. The darkness around her was beginning to close in on all sides, pressing in on her like a smothering pillow in the dead of night as it closed its icy fingers around her like a lover in a tender embrace. She welcomed the darkness as an escape from the indescribable pain that filled her every waking moment. Closing her eyes as the world around her tilted and pitched forward, she surrendered to the forgiving arms of darkness. But the last image that flashed across her mind broke lose a fragile scream that pierced the night air, cleaving it in two.

_Jason…_

The darkness washed over her as she struggled to breath. The panic that had risen in her throat lodged itself there, making it even harder still to draw a decent breath. She saw in her mind's eye her little boy; his frightened face and his eyes as wide as saucers as he screamed for her over and over again led her down into the deepest pit of nightmares. The darkness, closing in completely, brought with it her waking demons.

"Jason!"

The second scream, louder than the first, impaled the darkness as it echoed dully through the snowfall until it faded away to nothingness in the impenetrable darkness, going unheard by a single living soul.

Lois closed her eyes tightly to shut out the image, but it lingered just behind her closed eyelids, taunting her with a vicious malice that made her stomach twist.

The darkness filled her, taking her, mind and soul, away from the pain that tore at her, away from the bitter cold of the snow, away from the nightmares that lingered between the spaces of life and death, and worst of all, away from her son.

xXx

The thin streak of pink that painted the horizon was marred only by the low storm clouds that hung over the city. The main part of the storm had already blown through, leaving a disaster that rivaled a war zone in its wake as more dark clouds loomed on the horizon; threatening to unleash yet more frozen pellets of hell than it already had on the floundering and frozen wasteland.

The coming of dawn was welcomed by all, but most especially the Man of Steel. He flew low of the city, surveying the damage the blizzard had caused as he slowly made his way back to his apartment.

It seemed like an eternity had passed between the time of his first rescue, and when his head finally hit the pillow as he collapsed onto the small cot in his apartment. He drew the covers up to his chin without bothering to change, and closed his eyes. Taking in a weary breath, he turned over onto his side, ready to fall shamelessly into the world of dreams when he felt a tug of anguish and his eyes snapped open.

He tried to concentrate on the unexpected surge of emotions but it had vanished as quickly as it had come. Unnerved, he sat up and looked around the small Spartan like room. His eyes wandered the barren walls until they lighted on the small dresser opposite his bed. There, sitting atop the varnished wood, was an old photograph; the only one he kept around. His eyes sought out the woman in the picture as she sat proudly next to a small boy with thick black glasses and he couldn't help but repress a smile.

For a moment, he considered flying home to see his mother, he knew she would be missing him and he wanted to talk to her, to tell her of her grandson and let her know that he was alright, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. He needed his rest so that he would be ready to help sort out the aftermath of the storm as soon as the night completely surrendered to the dawn.

Lying on his back once more, he felt his eyelids droop dangerously. Pulling the covers up to his chin and crossing one arm behind his head, his mind flashed back to earlier in the night. A tug of sadness pulled distressingly at his heart as the image of a young boy, a victim of the raging tempest, flickered just behind his closed eyelids. Another sigh escaped him as he replayed the scene in his minds eye. He reminded him so much of Jason, and he couldn't have been much older than him either.

Clark felt his chest tighten sharply as the dead boy's face melted away and transformed into Jason's. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that he couldn't save every single one, but the pain of each loss still lingered, resonating with a fierce vengeance each time another innocent soul was lost to the steely clutches of death and inhumanity. He may have been Superman, but he could still be deeply touched by the sadness that accompanied the loss of human life.

He opened his eyes and tried to push the memory away, but it lingered like a festering wound that refused to heal. Pushing all thoughts of sleep from his mind, he stretched out and watched the shadows dance across his wall as the thin line of pink in the distance slowly spread across the world, bathing it in the warming rays of the sun. His mind turned toward Jason and subsequently toward Lois. On a night like this, he sincerely hoped that they were warm and safe in bed, but each time he thought of them, he felt an odd sensation of dread gnawing at the back of his mind.

Maybe he should fly over and make sure that they were alright. It might help to settle the fiery ball of anxiety that had knotted itself into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach. A surge of loneliness mingled with his anxiety as he threw the covers off and started for the window. He had to make sure…he had to see them with his own two eyes…

Casting a surreptitious look to and fro to make sure that no one saw him, he shot out of the window and up into the frosty darkness. Turning away from the warmth of dawn, he made quick work of crossing the city to the Lane/White residence. Before he even set foot on the ground, he knew that something terrible had happened there; he could feel it in the prickling hairs on the back of his neck.

Scanning the house he didn't find a single living soul. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the incorrigible aftermath of a horrible struggle. Furniture and broken glass was strewn about the downstairs, and the front door hung pitifully off its hinges. Here and there other debris littered the wood floors; pictures in broken frames scattered across the room, a teddy bear tossed into a corner, Jason's keyboard upside down near the back door.

A dark look creased Clark's features and the knot in his stomach gave a tremendous lurch as he retreated to the skies. Flying over Metropolis, he scanned the world beneath him for any sign of Lois or Jason, but came up empty handed.

A small cry of help emanated from the city but a quick glance told him that the police had the situation completely under control. He flew out over the harbor, lost in bitter thoughts.

And that was when he heard it; a heart shattering scream and a familiar voice crying out to the darkness. Diving, he flew low over the water, pushing himself to his full speed as he rocketed across the sky, coming up just short of an abandoned shipyard.

Clark felt her pain before he saw her. Lead on by the anguished cry still ringing vibrantly in his ears, he rounded a corner and spotted the object of his troubles lying in a crimson pool of blood.

"Lois!"

His voice echoed dully through the derelict yard, muffled by the snow and suppressing darkness. He could hear her heartbeat, and his own skipped a beat. It was slow, too slow!

"Lois, can you hear me?!" He demanded as he knelt hastily in the crimson snow by her side.

Gathering her head in his lap, he gave her a gentle shake.

"Please, Lois, please wake up!"

Her head merely lolled lifelessly in his hands. He could feel warm blood flowing over his fingers as he slid his hands under her motionless body. Drawing her close to his chest, like a mother would a small child, he saw an impossible amount of blood gleaming wetly on the snow. A stab of pain shot through is heart as he shot into the sky once more.

_She can't be dead; _he mentally screamed at himself. _I'd never forgive myself. Why didn't I know something was wrong, how did I miss something as important as this!_

He felt a ball of cold fury settle into his heart, and he knew that most of his anger was directed, not at who had done this horrible monstrosity, but at himself for not getting to her in time. If she died…he'd _never _forgive himself.

The cold of the world around him was nothing compared to the icy cold that had taken up residence in the hollow space within his heart that his burning anger had carved away. He felt the warmth of her body leaving him; taking with it a piece of his soul with every mile that passed by. He blinked back unshed tears as he landed at the hospital. Immediately, he was surrounded by nurses and doctors, they tried to take her from him, but he refused to let go, only acquiescing to their requests when the full impact of what was happening hit him, like a swift kick in the stomach.

Gently, he placed her on the hospital bed, and in the blink of an eye she was gone. Whisked away by the doctors that had surrounded him moments before, he now found himself standing virtually alone in the entrance, covered in blood and melting snow. A few bystanders stopped to gawk at him, but he paid them no mind. Every fiber of his being was concentrated on what was happening behind the steel doors at the end of the hallway. The tears he had held back earlier threatened to fall, but he swallowed hard and forced the prickling sensation back. To the casual observer, his demeanor was one of perfect calm. For all they knew, Lois was just another casualty of the storm who happened to have the good fortune to be rescued by the Man of Steel.

Heaving a ragged sigh, he finally lifted himself into the sky, heedless of the multitude of onlookers still gaping openly. He returned to his apartment long enough to wash the blood off of his hands and face before rushing back to the hospital. Landing on the roof, he hunkered down, listening intently to the struggle within the walls below him while simultaneously listening to the world around him for any sign or whisper of Jason.

Realizing that there was nothing more he could do by lurking helplessly on the rooftop, he once again took to the skies in a vain hope of finding his son. He made his way back to the shipyard in the hopes that he would have been near his mother. He listened intently for any sign that the boy was near, but he could hear nothing, not even the familiar small heartbeat that he had come to know so well over the past few weeks. It was almost as if the boy had vanished off the face of the Earth, blinked out of existence in the twinkle of an eye.

Exhausted and mentally drained, he retuned to the hospital late the next morning. He floated gently into Lois's hospital room, and slowly walked towards her bedside. Had he not know it was her he would have mistaken her for someone else. She was so desperately pale and fragile beneath the thin white sheets. A thousand different hoses and machines seemed to be beeping and humming a tune of despair and melancholy that echoes too brightly in the tiny room.

Approaching her was no easy task. He felt his heart sink with every beep that issued from the heart monitor, and found himself praying that she would make it through the coming storm. The ordeal she had already been through paled in comparison to the suffering that lay before her.

Clark shifted his gaze from the machines to her face. He swallowed hard to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he gently placed his hand over hers. Her skin felt cold beneath his touch, and his heart sank even lower. The sunlight that flooded through the open window washed over her, making her appear even paler than she was. Blinking back unshed tears he tightened his grip on her hand.

Emotions ran rampant behind his cool exterior, but not a single one rippled above the surface. Anxiety over Lois and Jason mingled with his fear for their safety, but was overshadowed by an even deeper pool of emotions. Anger, no, fury was a more justifiable term; fury over what had been done to his family. He was furious at whoever had the audacity to commit such an atrocious act of inhumanity, but more than that, he was furious at himself for having let it happen in the first place.

_You can't be everywhere at once, this isn't your fault. _He tried to reason with his emotions, tried to see the bleak reality that he couldn't save everyone all the time. He wasn't ubiquitous. People died everyday, despite the near heroic efforts of doctors and nurses around the world. Why should he be any different? He did what he could, and that should have been enough. But this time…this time it wasn't. This time it was his family…

His eyes misted over and he reached up impatiently to wipe away a tear. Gently, almost lovingly, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. The gesture, though intentional, brought no more comfort to him than it did to her.

"I'm so sorry, Lois," he heard himself mumble, but his words were lost among the beeping and whirling of the machines and his own desperate heart beating wildly in his chest. "I'll find him," he promised as he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I'll bring him back to you."

But as he left the world behind him, a feeling of uncertainty tainted the promise he had made. How could he find Jason when he didn't have a clue where to start? How could he find one small boy who appeared to have vanished without a trace into the harsh, unforgiving darkness; one small, indistinguishable cry lost amid a swelling sea of sorrow?

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So what do you guys think? Love it or leave it? Review. It makes me smile. 


	2. Invitation to Nowhere

They were only ribbons – tattered now. With their edges torn and frayed the glory from hours before had faded to nothing more than a ghostly memory. Wrapping the thin fabric around his small fingertips, he heaved a soft sigh. A warm tear slid down his cheek as he carefully placed the tattered ribbons into his jacket pocket for safe keeping, pushing them deep down to the bottom so that they wouldn't fall out and be lost. For a moment he closed his eyes and let himself pretend that he was somewhere else, somewhere warm where his mother could find him, but the gentle illusion was shattered the instant that his eyelids flashed back open and he felt back to reality with a painful yet noiseless thud.

He sniffled as he curled up into a tight ball on the dingy mattress, the only other thing in the room besides an empty water bottle that lay long forgotten a few feet away. Bringing his small arms tightly together around his knees in mock imitation of a human straight jacket, he stared at the barren wall opposite, momentarily intrigued by the peeling paint. But his attention soon waned and he found himself shivering in the cold. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, though no sound came from his small body. Peering upward to the minuscule window near the roof, he could see nothing beyond the thick veil of darkness that hung over the room.

No stars, no airplanes, no buildings…nothing that would indicate that he was still a part of the human civilization beyond his small cell.

A strangled sob finally escaped him as he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jacket. The smooth fabric rubbed across his forehead and he winced in pain as it drug across a gash over his left eye. Gingerly, he ran his fingertips over the wound, relived that it had stopped bleeding and subsided to a dull, annoying ache.

To tell the truth, he didn't really remember how it had gotten there, only that it had happened after he had been separated from his mother. He did remember the men. All dressed in black, they had snatched him from his mother's desperate grasp and thrown him unceremoniously into the back seat of an SUV, while simultaneously forcing him into the floor. He remembered there being pain at that point and surmised that he had probably hit his head on the sharp edge of metal sticking out from underneath the seat. He had wondered briefly what it was, but fear and pain had blinded him from it, drawing his attention back to his mother…but she was gone and he was alone. Something soft had been thrown at him, hitting him upside the head…

The memory jarred something in Jason and he looked wildly around the dark room for the fluffy object. After a moment of panicked searching, he spotting it a few feet away lying in a tumbled heap near the door. Scrambling to his feet he rushed from the mattress, snatched up the small lump, and dashed back to the corner of the room.

Nothing moved in the darkness that engulfed him, and nothing breathed beyond his field of vision but the thick night air.

Breathing a little easier, he felt a sudden feeling of safety and comfort washed over him as he hugged the dingy object to his chest. It was a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tie whom he had affectionately dubbed "Teddy". It had been a gift from Superman, showing up mysteriously on his pillow one night shortly after his traumatic run in with Lex Luther.

The boy had cherished it ever since, dragging it everywhere with him, even hiding it in his backpack at school. There were times when he felt a little awkward carrying it around. He was well past the age for dragging around stuffed animals, but something about it made him feel protected, more sure of himself. His father chalked it up to hero worship, nothing more and nothing less. Jason felt there was more to it than that, but he just couldn't quite put his small finger on what it was yet.

"We're in big trouble, Teddy," he whispered to the bear as he hugged it close to his chest.

The bear lay silently in his arms, and Jason didn't feel quite so alone anymore. A sense of hope surged through his numb limbs, but it did nothing to dispel the dread that still made his stomach churn painfully in the muted darkness.

"Don't worry," he said matter-of-factly, the slightest hint of uncertainty coloring his voice. "Superman will save us."

xXx

He hovered just outside the window, waiting for the nurse to take her leave. The minuets ticked by, each one taking Lois and Jason just a little farther away from him. He heaved a sigh and gently opened the window as the young nurse left with her chart, but the tight line of her lips and the concerned crease of her forehead were not lost on Clark.

Moving to the abandoned chair near the bed he settled down and stretched out his legs. Almost of its own accord, his hand found hers and his thumb began to caress the back of if gently.

"I haven't found him yet," he admitted, the quiet defeat lingering behind his voice giving rise to a slew of uncontrollable feelings.

He hated to give her this news knowing that in all likelihood she could probably hear him, but he felt responsible for what had happened and needed her to understand that he was trying to rectify what he felt was his mistake and make things right. For her and for Jason.

Reaching up, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it safely behind her ear. He let his fingers trail down the side of her face lovingly, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was…for everything. For leaving her in the first place, for not being there when she needed him most, and for being unable to have her son waiting by her side when she woke up.

He still remembered with agonizing clarity the look on her face when she had told him that she's moved on. That she didn't need him anymore. She might as well have told him that she hated him, but looking back, perhaps she had. Just not in so many words.

They had come a long way since that night on the rooftop, but he could see that she was still faintly angry with him for leaving. It wasn't so much in what she said anymore, but in the way she held herself and the manner in which she vehemently protested being assigned to cover Superman.

The feeling of guilt that had been churning in his stomach ever since the night before flared up and he chocked back a dry sob. This wasn't like him.

"I'll find him, Lois. I _will_ bring him back to you." It was a promise constructed on the roots of his very soul. He would find Jason if it was the last thing he ever did on Earth.

So caught up in the tempest that raged within his tattered soul was he, the he didn't initially feel her stir. It wasn't until she murmured his name that he realized she was awake.

"Lois?"

He moved closer, his face inches away from hers. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded but even that slight movement caused her a great deal of pain. "Jason. Where's Jason?"

He shook his head slightly as she opened one of her eyes to star blearily up at him. After a moment or two, she opened the other one and the recognition on her face mingled with a tinge of anger. Maybe she had been expecting to find Richard hunched over her in such an intimate position, his hand gently holding hers. The urge to move away seized him but he didn't flinch.

"Where's Jason?"

Her words were soft, but he caught the panic building behind them. His gaze locked onto hers and he felt her eyes boring accusingly into his. He wanted to look away, but her eyes held him and he was unable to move.

"I'll find him," he repeated, louder this time and with the same amount of conviction.

Lois blinked in confusion, "what do you—"

"It's okay," he began, and it dawned on him that she didn't remember what had happened to her. Or to her son. His mind whirled frantically as he tried to think of something to say, something reassuring that wouldn't send her into a blind panic. But she saved him the trouble as the same disquieting look of apprehension that mirrored him own canvassed across her face like paint across a blank easel.

Her eyes went wide in dread and dismay as the heart monitor beside him started to beep frantically. He squeezed her hand to try and calm her, but she didn't respond as he had hoped.

"Jason! He's gone, Superman. They took him! They—they took my baby."

Clark glanced around as he heard frenzied footsteps rushing toward them in the hallway and he knew that in a matter of moments they would be caught, surrounded by a horde of nurses and doctors armed to the teeth with needles and medical equipment.

"I know. I know. Please, calm down, it's going to be okay. I'll find him."

Now that she was remembering he hoped to coerce something useful out of her, something that might point him in the right direction on his quest to find her boy. "Who took him? Do you know them? Do you remember what they looked like?"

The footsteps were growing closer. "I—I don't know! There were three men, all dressed in black…you have to find him, please."

He nodded and shot her a reassuring smile, a smile that he reserved just for her. "I promise."

A quick kiss on her hand and he was gone, just as the doctors rounded the corner and stormed into her room. He didn't stay to watch the aftermath; instead, he shot upward, through the clouds. The warm sun bathed him in its comforting rays, renewing his soul and warming him to the core.

He would find Jason, and he would bring him home, but first, there was something else he had to do. Someone he had to have a little chat with….someone who wasn't expecting the unpleasant conversation that was rocketing their way.

xXx

He didn't want to open his eyes, but the enticing aroma of strawberries and butter was too overwhelming to ignore.

Cracking an eyelid, he spotted a small tray a few feet away from where he lay. He blinked rapidly at the bright sunlight streaming in through a small crack above the topmost crate at the window, and realized with a terrifying jolt that he hadn't been having a nightmare after all. This was all real.

A small sob escaped his parched lips but he breathed in a calming breath, dragging Teddy into a bear hug and crushing him against his tiny chest.

"We're really in trouble, but don't worry. Superman'll find us." He said confidently, but in a low whisper added, "I hope."

Superman had never let him down before, but even a five year old knew that grown-ups didn't always follow through on their promises. His dad had promised to take him to the park over the weekend, but he had been to busy at work, and his mom had promised she would teach him a new song on his keyboard, but she never had the time. He only hoped that Superman would come through on his promise to always be around.

His stomach growled in buoyant anticipation and he slid off the mattress to trudge cautiously toward the tray.

Two pieces of strawberry toast and a bottle of water sat on the grimy beige tray, innocently waited for him, but Jason, despite his raging hunger, was skeptical about consuming food that appeared out of nowhere. He knew someone had brought it in while he slept, but he didn't know who. It wasn't his mom's toast, because she always cut the crust off, and the crust of this toast was decidedly still attached.

"I probably shouldn't eat it," he said absentmindedly as he picked up the first piece. "Mommy said never to take food from strangers."

Jason tore the crust off slowly as his stomach growled even louder, protesting the lack of food. Sighing deeply, he took a cautious bite of the toast.

It was delicious and made his mouth water uncontrollably.

What could it hurt? Really?

The rest of the food disappeared as quickly as he could shove it into his mouth.

Licking sticky fingers, he returned to the bed with Teddy in one hand and the bottle of water in his other. As he settled himself in the corner, his thoughts turned toward home and he suddenly felt very alone. The small room seemed to shrink significantly, the walls closing in around him, and the very air itself seemed almost too heavy to breath.

A great overwhelming wave of sadness and fear welled up inside his tiny body until he felt sure he was going to explode. The queasy feeling in his stomach gave the illusion that he was going to be violently ill, his breakfast returning to revisit him, but the moment passed without incident.

He stared around at the shadows as they danced across the wall in the early morning sunlight that penetrated the top of the crate. Teddy was strangled in a vise-like grip beneath Jason's small chin as he drew his knees up against this stomach.

"Mommy!"

He was screaming. Over and over again until his cries bounded off of the walls and threatened to deafen him. Hot tears flowed over his pale cheeks but he didn't have the strength or the will to curb them. He didn't want to be here anymore. All he wanted was to go home.

Without realizing it, his screams had subsided to a dull whisper, and soon vanished completely. The ringing silence that filled the room was supercharged with fear and Jason buried his face in his knees to shut out the searing light that now shown directly onto the bed. He felt scared, and alone, and suddenly very dizzy.

Dizzy. That was an odd sensation but it was quickly replaced but a numbness that spread like wildfire throughout his entire body. His arms and legs felt heavy and the urge to lie down and go to sleep washed over him like an errant tidal wave. Where he had been wide awake moments before, now sleep beckoned to him like a long lost friend.

No matter how hard he tried to resist it, his eyelids kept inching dangerously close together until the finally closed and he tipped over on the bed. Dead to the world.

Teddy slipped from his limp hand and crashed soundlessly to the cold concrete floor.

xXx

The cry was faint at first and he almost missed it, but his super hearing picked it up seconds before it vanished; a vague, whispered cry for help, an anguished sob that seared straight down into the pit of his very soul.

He stopped flying to hover just above the murky black expanse of the ocean, listening with all his might. Then, he heard it again. In the distance, back the way he had came, a small boy was screaming.

His heart gave a lurch as he shot off in the direction of the cries. In no time at all, he was flying south over the city, the bright glare from the sun reflection in the millions of tiny windows, blocking the view of the crowded morning streets. Here and there he saw rescue crews still digging out cars and people from the aftermath of the storm, but he didn't stop to help.

With his mind racing, he descended on the old warehouse district and the hundreds of abandoned warehouses that filled the small lots which comprised the southern most portion of the naval yard. Years ago these same warehouses had been bustling with activity from the port and the main city airport, but budget cuts and a slew of arson related fires had forced it out of commission. A huge security fence with no trespassing signs hung on it every few meters stood guard around the district and nothing but rats and fearless squatters dared to call it home. The latter of which had to be hard pressed to resort to braving such decrepit structures.

As he landed gently in the open expanse between two of the looming, dilapidated buildings, he sniffed at the ominous atmosphere that permeated the air around him.

No man's land. The void between the city and the open ocean. The setting of many a child's horror story. All of these applied with equal weight and clarity to his present surroundings. Damp and gloomy, it was a forgotten realm in the midst of a vibrant city.

Pushing aside any thought other than the feeble cries that no longer reached his ears, he set off with a confident stride in the direction of the nearest door.

The sheet metal was rusted onto its hinges and creaked awfully as Clark yanked it open. The vociferous resonance of his efforts bounced around the abandoned void and was akin to nails being raked slowly across a chalkboard. He let it clatter noisily to rest on the side of the building as he strode cautiously into the semi darken building.

Boxes and crates were stacked five high to the ceiling in scattered rows of entropic proportions. Light cascaded in through holes in the roof and broken windows, illuminating small patches of dusty concrete and broken crates.

As he moved deeper into the madness he began to notice something truly peculiar. The further into the bowels of the beast that he went, the less chaotic it became. It was frighteningly systematic in OCD fashion. The crates were meticulously stacked and arranged by size and shape, and they had all been branded with barcodes and fresh locks. Upon closer inspection he noticed a small round logo in the center of the boxes, the paint, or ink as it was more likely, was still wet. The letters "DC" dominated the central axis of the circle and smaller, more obscure writing in a language that Clark was not familiar with, ringed around it.

He reached out and ran the tips of his fingers across the smooth surface, but he instantly drew it back. A foreboding feeling echoed dully around in his lower abdomen, but he couldn't quite put a name to his sudden feeling of fear. He swallowed hard to rid himself of the obstinate lump that had formed in his throat, and forced himself to move on.

"Jason?"

No answer.

"Jason?"

His voice echoed hollowly around the room before fading into the shadows. He stared around at the crates that took up most of the empty space in the room. Behind him, they tumbled together in a jagged blur of light and darkness, around and ahead of him, they stood, sentinel like in perfect rows leading to the back docking bay.

_What is this?"_ He found himself wondering idly as he peered around the nearest stack of crates.

"Jason!"

Ringing silence. But then, a feeble voice, scratchy and horse from screaming, reached his ears.

"Help! I'm over here."

The voice, though young and decidedly male, was not what he had expected. Hurrying along the crates, he neared the end and veered sharply to the right; coming to a halt in front of another perfectly stacked column, but something was different about his one. The top crate was perched precariously on top of the others, ready to fall at any moment and behind it, trapped between the impenetrable wall of steel and crates, was a small boy.

"Hang on," he said reassuringly, "I'll get you out."

The crates seemed to weight at least a ton as he picked them up and set them aside. He brushed his hand over his forehead and was stunned to draw back a sleeve that was damp with sweat. Momentarily brushing his troubled thoughts aside, he turned his attention to the injured boy.

"Are you okay?"

The little boy couldn't have been much older than Jason. He sat crumpled into a dirty heap, clutching his arm to his chest and whimpering in pain. Clark followed a dried stream of blood from the boy's collar, up to the matted mess of hair where it began and let out a low whistle. By the kid's ankle a baseball glove and a ball lay long forgotten. Turning slightly he saw a shattered window behind him and it wasn't hard to figure out how the boy had ended up trapped back here.

"It's okay," he said in his most soothing voice, one that he had used on Jason not long before. He gave the boy a bright smile and picked up the baseball and shoved it into the glove.

The boy watched him with wide, pain stricken eyes. "Superman? No one at school will believe me."

Clark smiled and gathered him in his arms. "You never know," he said conversationally, "here you hold these."

Smiling now, through the sharp haze of pain, the boy clutched the glove in his good hand as Superman trudged back to the entrance.

Once he was back out in the sunshine with the cool wind blowing on his face, he felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. His mind lingered back with the crates in the building and he couldn't help but wonder what dangerous secrets they concealed within their meticulously crafted rows, and why it had affected him in such a disquieting manner. And his mind immediately turned back to Jason. As it did he felt a tug of bitter disappointment yank at his heartstrings. Glancing down at the face of the child in his arms, he wondered if maybe Jason was in a similar situation. Alone, injured, and scared.

"What's your name," he asked gently as he lifted into the sky.

The boy turned to briefly look up at him with frightened eyes as the earth fell away, before burying his tear stained and bloodied face in the coarse fabric of Clark's shirt.

"Joshua. Joshua McAllister."

Joshua. It was so much like Jason.

* * *

First of all, thanks for all the great reviews! They are all very much appreciated.

I am currently operating without the help of a beta so if you find any mistakes, I 'm sorry. I've tried to catch as many as possible.

Also, this story is already outlined and partially written in a notebook, so I do have a plan for it. I'm not just making it up as I go and hoping for something magical to happen. So, hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner than this one. Have a great week everyone!


	3. Mired in the Misery

A plethora of Starbucks coffee cups littered the cluttered desk and surrounding floor area, tossed aside without so much as a second thought when they were drained dry of the acerbic black blood of life. Here and there a balled up sheet of paper joined the cardboard cups on the floor near the trashcan where they had been lobbed in a mock basketball moment. The part of the room that remained removed from the desk was nearly spotless except for the sheets on the bed. Still tucked neatly under the pillow and around the edges, the trifling creases that rippled through them where the only indication that the bed had been used at all.

The room's only occupant was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back propped up against the bed as he stared forlornly out the window at the snow laden world beyond his small slice of hell. A small black cell phone lay on his lap and he idly fingered the smooth casing as he let the finality of what had occurred in the last few hours or so sink into his numb mind completely.

The morning news continued to play softly in the background, CNN proclaiming that a state of emergency had been declared in Metropolis in the wake of the ravaging storm. The death toll, estimated at almost one hundred people, was steadily rising as rescue crews worked ceaselessly to dig out stranded motorists and return power to the frozen city.

But what had driven him to his current state was a close up of a place he recognized, a place he called home. Devastated by downed trees and buried in snow, he could clearly see that half of the roof had been blown off by the hellacious winds before the snow had arrived. He tried to call home, but there was no answer. The power lines were down all over the city and he had no way of knowing where his loved ones where or even if they were safe.

He tapped the black casing of the phone impatiently, his mind reeling with all manner of sickening possibilities, each one more terrifying and nauseating than the last. A tight ball of icy dread had formed in his lower abdomen and nothing he did could dispel his ever-growing sense of apprehension.

Not knowing what else to do, he flipped the phone open and punched in a new number, silently praying to anyone who would listen that his call would go through. Five seconds later, the phone began to ring and he breathed a heavily sigh of relief. It rang twice before a too cheerful voice buzzed in his ear.

"Jimmy Olsen, Daily Planet."

"Jimmy, its Richard –"

"Oh, hey," said Jimmy excitedly, cutting across him. "How's New York? I heard the storm brushed over you guys before heading south."

Richard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes where a monstrous headache was forming. "Yeah, that's why I'm calling. Have you seen Lois today?"

There was a pause in which the young photographer shook his head, but, realizing that Richard couldn't see him, cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, no," he said as if this should have been the most obvious thing in the word, "I haven't been over to the hospital yet. I only just got the news this morning when I clocked in."

"The—where?" Richard nearly dropped the phone in shock as Jimmy's words reverberated around in his numb head.

His heart skipped a beat before racing off in a blind panic, and all of his worst fears and earlier scenarios came crashing back with painful clarity.

Jimmy, oblivious to his friend's plight, continued on conversationally.

"Wait, slow down Jimmy," demanded Richard when he found his voice again. "What happened? Where's Jason? Is Lois alright?" The questions spilled out in rapid succession without much thought.

There was an awkward pause on Jimmy's end and Richard through he heard a sharp intake of breath. Had he been closer to his friend, he would have throttled him for making him wait.

"Well, gosh, you don't know?" He said at last.

Richard rolled his eyes as the realization dawned on Jimmy that no one had bothered to call and tell him anything. Or that they had tried but had been unsuccessful with the downed lines and towers.

"No, tell me _everything_," he retorted, emphasizing each word by slowly and clearly enunciating them one by one.

"I—I don't know everything," Jimmy began tensely. "All I heard was that Lois got caught in the storm. She's in pretty rough shape, ICU rough. Superman found her." He hesitated to laugh nervously before plunging on, determined to get it all out in the open so that he could hang up. "Go figure, huh, that it'd be Superman swooping in to rescue her. Just like old times."

The words "Lois", "Superman", and "rescue" jumbled together so naturally in one sentence made Richard's free hand curl unthinkingly into a fist. He had some unresolved issues regarding the Man of Steel, some deep seeded rage that wouldn't die no matter how many times that man saved his life, many of which stemmed from his cavalier abandonment of Lois.

Of course. It _had _to be the Man of Steel.

Richard closed his eyes and rubbed gingerly at his temples in a vain attempt to curb the headache that had taken up residence in his skull.

"Where's Jason," he asked through clenched teeth.

"Uh…"

Jimmy's brief pause might as well have been the news that his son was dead. It felt like it in that moment. A cold tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine spread throughout his body like wildfire and he broke out in a cold sweat. Near hyperventilating, he swallowed hard but the lump that had formed in his throat refused to budge. His hand, sweaty and trembling, barley managed to keep its grip on the slippery plastic casing of the phone. He switched it to his other hand and rubbed his clammy palm on the coarse fabric of his jeans.

"Jimmy, please, tell me."

The fear and dread in his voice was horrifyingly palpable and he could almost imagine Jimmy squirming uncomfortably in his cushy black desk chair at the sound.

"We, uh, we don't know where Jason is. He wasn't with Lois and –"

Anything else that Jimmy said fell on deaf ears as the phone slid from Richard's shaking hand and clattered with a muffled thud to the well kept carpet of his hotel room. His blood turned to ice as the room grew hotter and smaller by the second.

Lois injured. Jason missing.

Richard felt the room start to spin sickeningly and he closed his eyes to keep from falling over in the whirlwind of tormenting emotions that assaulted him. Fear, anger, guilt, dismay, they all rushed with equal ferocity through his veins leaving him numb and unfeeling until he slumped over onto the floor.

xXx

The allure of the unattainable was often the undoing of man, not only as a species but as an individual human being. Clark Kent was no exception to this rule. He was no stranger to the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions that reared their ugly head in the mist of great turmoil and awe inspiring elation. His present frame of mind was no different than that of any other person had they been in his shoes, and if he wasn't careful he could end up hurting the people he loved; even more than he already had. Emotions that ran rampant during such a dangerous time, if not curbed and controlled, would be his ultimate downfall.

Clark was painfully aware of that simple fact as he sat in the back of a yellow cab that smelled frighteningly like the inside of his mother's house during Thanksgiving holidays. Cinnamon and curry hung thick on the air and mingled sickeningly with the acrid burn of a cigar. He wanted to roll the window down but the cab driver insisted that the cold air would be the death of them both.

_Little does he know, _thought Clark ruefully as he slumped back against the worn leather and rubbed his weary face.

They had been sitting in the same spot for fifteen minuets. Traffic ahead was at a dead standstill, prompting Clark to wonder what could possibly be holding up half of the city, but all he had to do was glance sideways out of the window to know that it was a rhetorical question.

Snow still covered everything and was preventing the floundering city from finding its feet again. Here and there National Guardsmen were scattered around, directing traffic on the main roads, the only functional roads for miles.

He chanced a glance at the meter with rueful expectancy and saw that it was continuing to tick even though they were sitting still. His meager salary that was afforded to him by the Daily Planet did not stretch thin enough to cover such expenditures as extended cab fare. With each tick of the meter he could almost feel the hole in his pocket growing larger and larger with no end in sight.

Heaving a sigh, he dug into his pocket and passed his current fare through the small window to the driver before braving the icy streets on foot. At this rate, he could make it all the way to the office and back to the cab before it moved an inch.

It wasn't until he had shoved his hands into his pockets and crossed three blocks that he found his mind wandering away from Lois and Jason to a more sinister subject. Sinister in its ability to ensnare him so completely, and disconcerting in that he knew exactly what it was that bothered him most about it.

Clark hadn't given the warehouse where he had found Joshua much thought over the last few hours, but now that he was virtually alone he felt the familiar tug of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. The crates bothered him more than he cared to admit and in reality he knew that there was only one rational explanation for why they had affected him so. But even then, he could feel that something wasn't right. There was more at play here than just the crates and whatever ominous evils that they contained. Something iniquitous was at work in Metropolis, something that made his senses scream danger.

The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that in some round about way, whatever was going on with those crates would eventually lead him straight back to his arch nemesis. And that thought, more than anything else, made his blood boil. If Lex Luther was behind any of this, he would rue the day he ever set foot in Metropolis, and before Superman was through with him, he'd wish that he had never escaped from that Godforsaken spit of land in the Atlantic.

But more than that, Clark was nearly one hundred percent certain that whatever was a foot in Metropolis, that it would surely take him far from his comfort zone. Maybe even over the edge, straight into the heart of the bleeding abyss of evil.

This wasn't a thought that he particularly liked to dwell on, not even as Superman. And with so many dismal thoughts already drumming around in his head, he didn't have much room left for work.

He had made it all the way to the Daily Planet and through the front doors before he realized where he was. His feet had been leading the way as his mind raced off in a thousand different directions at once. He had thought to go by the hospital and visit Lois again, but decided that it was best to put in an appearance at work lest his employer decided he was no longer interested in drawing a menial paycheck and chunk him out on the street. As his only source of income, he couldn't afford to lose his current job.

So it was with a heavy heart that he plopped down into his desk chair, not much caring what assignment came his way as long as it didn't involve too much thought processing or field research on his part. His proverbial plate was beyond full, it was overflowing.

"Hi, Mr. Kent," said a cheerful voice from a few desk over.

Clark plastered his trademark goofy grin across his features and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as the unwanted speaker made his way across the room.

"Hey, Jimmy, how goes it?"

Jimmy shrugged as he stole a chair from an abandoned desk and settled in for a long chat. Rolling his eyes, Clark crossed his arms across his chest in irritation.

"You heard about Lois," his friend asked in a quite voice.

Clark nodded, knowing good and well that everyone within fifty miles would have heard about Lois by now. News and secrets alike spread like wildfire in Metropolis.

"Have you been to see her yet?"

"No," Clark replied simply, hoping that the finality of his tone would indicate that the conversation was over.

But the hint was lost on Jimmy as he plowed on in a soft, conspiratorial voice with his theory about what had really happened during the course of the storm. Clark nodded but had already begun to tune him out, occasionally giving the obligatory nod or "uh huh" where appropriate.

Something at the corner of his desk had caught his eye. It was a piece of computer paper, the kind that little Jason White used in many of his Superman drawings, but it was half obscured by a portfolio on the poverty levels in the city so he couldn't tell what was on it. He knew there had been nothing under that portfolio when he had left the office Friday night, just before the storm hit, and couldn't fathom how it had gotten there.

"Listen, Jimmy, that's fascinating," he said abruptly, "but I have a lot of work to catch up on so if you don't mind—"

Jimmy immediately stood, shaking his head, "no, no, sorry. Hey maybe we could do lunch and finish this conversation then?"

The hopefully look on his young face was enough to make Clark hesitate for a fraction of a second, giving Jimmy all the answer he thought he needed.

"Great! How about Donner's at two o'clock?"

"Uh…"

"Okay, talk to you then."

And he was gone.

Clark shook his head in confusion but quickly put all thoughts of Jimmy and lunch out of his mind. The paper on the corner of his desk beckoned enticingly to him and he didn't have the will to resist. Moving the portfolio aside, he snatched up the paper. Almost immediately he felt his heart skip a beat as all the blood in his body rushed to his head with dizzying force.

The unmistakable figure of Superman was drawn carefully across the page in bright red and blue crayon. He was holding a brown teddy bear with a red bowtie and smiling unseeingly off the page into the receding space behind Clark's head. The words "thank you" were scrawled in bright blue in untidy five year old handwriting across the bottom portion of the page.

It was a mistake. It had to be. A coincidence and nothing more. Something that Jason had drawn and accidentally left on his desk in his haste to go home. Yes, that was it. It had to be.

His eyes flew from the paper to the space around him and he breathed a strangled sigh of relief when he realized that he was alone. Hastily folding the paper into quarters, he shoved it deep into his jacket pocket with a shaking hand while his heart was pounded out a ferocious rock song in his chest.

It was impossible that Jason could know the truth. It was inconceivable that a five year old could see through his guise when he managed to deceive every adult around him day in and day out.

But there lay the problem. Jason was no ordinary five year old and he didn't filter the word through a prism of preconceived thoughts and beliefs. He was only a child, and he saw the world as it was, not as others had taught him to see it.

A part of him wanted this to be nothing more than an innocent mistake, but another part of him, a part that often lead him into trouble, wanted it to be true.

xXx

Somewhere nearby he heard the soft sound of a gull calling overhead, the only sign of life that proved he hadn't dropped off the face of the earth. It wasn't much, but at least he didn't feel quite as alone as he curled into a tight ball on the mattress.

His head felt hot and too heavy to lift, and his eyelids were fighting a loosing battle to remain open. No matter how hard he crushed Teddy against his chest, he could barely feel the plushy bear on his numb body. The tears that had flowed so freely the night before were gone, replaced by a stony yet alarmingly pale countenance. He had utterly exhausted his supply of tears and was too sleepy to care.

A small bottle of water lay on the floor where he had dropped it, its remaining contents leaking out onto the cold stone and starting to freeze in the frigid night air that seeped in through every crack and crevice imaginable in his small cell.

He felt thirsty but even if he had the strength to crawl towards the bottle it would have been to no avail unless he wanted to lick the water off of the dirty floor as most of it had already seeped out. As it was, he merely lay prone on the mattress, his breath coming out in small white puffs as he huddled beneath the warmth of a Power Rangers comforter that had appeared while he slept the previous night.

Despite the warmth that the blanket provided, he still felt unnaturally cold. His entirely body was racked with shivers, and the cycle of hot and cold that seemed to perpetually plague his waking hours was enough to make him feel like he was going to die. Mired in the misery, he was beginning to doubt his assertion that Superman was going to swoop in and save him.

There came a point where he stopped fighting the inevitable and let his eyes droop together without prying them open. His breathing leveled out and his death grip slackened on the bear.

Somewhere in the darkness a door slammed and was followed by a string of overt expletives, but Jason White slept on. Oblivious to the danger that was lurking in the shadows just beyond the barrier of his chamber.


	4. Chasing Circle's End

Sunlight streamed in through the tiny slits in the crates, casting elongated shadows over much of the room and bathing the rest in an eerie pale glow. The hint of saltwater was easily detectable on the gentle breeze that occasionally stirred within the confines of the cold stone space in which Jason lounged.

His fever had dissipated sometime during the night as exhaustion took hold and he fell through a dark empty void, landing dazed and disoriented in the daylight. Blinking rapidly, he swallowed hard, his throat scratchy and his head throbbing with the promise of another night's agony.

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, catching in his lashes and temporarily blinding him. He swatted at them with the dirty sleeve of his jacket, forcing them back as his mind whirled with a thousand daring thoughts. One, he decided was worth a shot.

His eyes flickered to the doorway and his pulse quickened. Nothing moved as he listened intently for any sounds of human activity beyond his small room. Seconds ticked by, each one seeming to stretch into eternity, until he was certain that he was completely alone.

Sucking in a deep breath, he crept across the room to the stack of crates that stood guard in front of the window.

The bottom crate was by far the biggest of the three, and it stuck out farther into the room than the others. Jason grabbed the top of it and hoisted his small frame up and over the edge until he was resting on his knees, gripping the edge with white knuckles.

His breath came in sharp, rapid gasps, more exhilarated than frightful. Another quick glance at the door and he felt his confidence grow exponentially. So far, so good.

Forcing himself to his feet, he clung to the second crate to keep from falling back to the hard concrete floor.

The two top crates were the same size but sitting at odd angles so that there was just enough space for him to climb precariously onto the second crate and stand on the toes of his sneakers. Grasping the edges of the top crate firmly he struggled to balance on his tippy toes. A momentary flash of fear ripped through his body as he imagined the painful fall back to earth, but he shrugged it away as he braced his shoulder against the heavy wood.

He took a deep breath and shoved with all of his might, but the crate didn't budge an inch. He stopped to catch his breath before switching shoulders. Again, he pushed against the wood but to no avail.

A small bubble of hope burst somewhere in his heart but he refused to give up. He knew he could move this crate if he tried hard enough, he could feel it in every fiber of his being, he just didn't know how it was possible. But at that point, it didn't matter. All he wanted was to get out of the stuffy little room and find his mom.

Another shove proved as fruitless as before. Again and again he pushed and shoved the crate but it stayed stubbornly in place. Aggravation and a growing fear of being caught began to build like a run away train and he found himself pushing the crate out of sheer frustration, angry tears flowing silently over flushed cheeks.

Finally, out of breath and angry beyond comprehension, he climbed back down and threw himself across the mattress. A heated sob escaped him as his shoulders shook in desperate defeat.

He cried until no more tears would come, his body merely heaving with dry sobs as every inch of his skin burned with unnatural heat.

An image of his mother flashed across his mind once again, followed swiftly by a memory of his father. Closing his eyes, he thought of home, of his own bed, and warm hugs that made everything okay. As he drifted on warm thoughts of his parents he found it difficult to pry his eyes back open. It wasn't long before it became extremely tricky to differentiate between dreams and reality as everything began to melt into one huge stream of consciousness and bled together in his muddled and exhausted mind.

Somewhere outside his door, the shrill trilling of an alarm clock sliced the still silence in two.

xXx

The drive back had been the worst part. Alone with his thoughts, his fear and uncertainty had seemed to build and build until the confines of the car closed in around him. Near hyperventilating, he hastily rolled down his window and breathed in the fresh air that flooded the car.

But any hopes he had had of the fresh air cleansing his mind of such dark and dismal thoughts turned frigid as the heater worked overtime to keep his warm with the cold air still seeping in. A mumbled stream of incoherent curse words followed the window as he rolled it back up and stuck his frozen fingers over the vents to warm them.

Brake lights ahead of him warned him that traffic was headed for another standstill. Another curse, just as colorful as the first, flew at the windshield as Richard bashed his fist against the steering wheel.

Two days after the storm and even the best roads were still atrocious, and a few hours drive became a nine hour game of hit and miss. The interstate's usual four lanes were diminished to two as fallen trees and a debacle of motor vehicle accidents piled up for miles. Navigating them was next to impossible, even with the National Guard and State Troopers working overtime to direct traffic and keep order.

It seemed that Richard had left New York and driven right into the ninth circle of hell. And to make matters worse, he was riddled with fear for Jason and Lois, wanting nothing more than to hold them in his arms again and assure himself that his family was safe. But even as traffic began the slow crawl back to life, the angry knot in his lower abdomen gave him a swift kick back to reality. Any illusions that he was under that things were alright with him and Lois were just that, illusions. Something had changed in her demeanor to him since the incident aboard the Gertrude. Their relationship, while still civil, had a slight chill to it and he didn't understand why or how to fix it.

Which was why, when he finally made it back to Metropolis hours later, he stood hesitantly outside of her hospital room door, unsure of himself for the first time since they had started dating.

Soft voices issued from behind the closed door but no matter how hard he strained his hearing he couldn't distinguish who they belonged to. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had been rooted to the same spot for five minuets. He shot a curious nurse a bashful grin as she passed with an armload of paper work and felt a blush creeping up to his face. Feeling utterly foolish, he shook his head and rapped quickly on the door.

"Come in."

As he opened the door and stepped into the sunlit room, he calmly braced himself for the worst.

Lois sat propped up on a mountain of pillows, surrounded by an army of flowers and get well cards.

But his eyes are instantly drawn away from the colorful foliage by the purple and yellow pattered bruised across her face and exposed arms. A half dozen butterfly stretch across her forehead right above her left eyebrow and her right arm was cautiously bound up in a dark blue sling.

He let his eyes sweep over her body, away from her face as he struggled to compose himself. Searching for the right words, any words, but all speech evaded him as he moved to her side.

"Lois, are you alright," he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

She gave him a half hearted smile, "never been better Richard."

"I'm so sorry I couldn't have been here sooner, honey. Traffic was hell."

A soft chuckle escaped her and she grimaced in pain, the very act of moving bringing on a fresh wave of nausea. He reached for her instinctively, wanting to help her but afraid of hurting her. After a moment of awkwardness in which his hand hung suspended in the air above her shoulder, he let his it drop limply to the bed, seeking out hers without thinking. As he intertwined his fingers gently with hers, he vaguely remembered that there was someone else in the room.

He inclined his head towards the chair in the corner and his vision fell on the last person he expected to see.

"Clark."

The other man nodded curtly and pushed his glasses nervously back up the bridge of his nose. "Richard."

* * *

Whoa, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter posted! I've been really busy. College graduation and mother having a transplant can really take up a LOT of time. lol. I hope the next chapter won't take nearly as long!


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